Life And Delusion
by z0riah
Summary: Annabel Selador led the typical boring life of a college dropout - until she was magically pulled into an unknown world full of strange lands, languages, and even stranger inhabitants. These are her adventures, there and back again.
1. Prologue

**AN**: Sooo, this is my first actual story in about four years. I'm going to try to go book-verse in the beginning because I love Tom Bombadil but I might switch over later because I haven't read the books wholly in two years (I just read the first book of FOTR a few weeks ago while driving back to LI so it's pretty clear in my head). So please enjoy, and if you do let me know. If not, let me know! Critique is just as important as praise, if not more. The chapters will probably be about this size each (2.5 pages for MS Word) because I'm very busy this summer. Merci buckets!! - Alison

**Prologue**

A voice called her name in the darkness. The warm cocoon of her bed no longer sheltered her, pulling her from the world of feral dreams unremembered. Slowly, the world became more lucid. Dark shadows clouded her vision, save the radiance of moonlight that yet lingered through the shades of the window. She buried herself further into the familiar softness as a soft frapping of the door sounded. Everything felt heavy – the simple task of raising her thin arms seemed impossible, let alone her whole body. Her eyelids were the biggest burden, however. The darkness always had a way of weighing them down the most. She wished for nightfall, anything to further the gift of sleep.

* * *

"Ann," the familiar voice belonged to her mother, "It's time to get up. Your father and I are leaving today and we'd like to have breakfast together before we go."

Annabel was unaccustomed to visitors in her rundown apartment. A year of being alone after giving up university as a sophomore, transformed the once vivacious girl with a dream and a visa into a lonesome, debt-ridden young woman; unable to find an acceptable career, the 20-year-old immigrant relied on part-time retail and waitressing to make ends meet. She was far from family.

Her light brown eyes were assaulted with bright fluorescent light. Her hands were instinctively drawn to her eyes, trying to drown out the stabbing brightness as she spoke.

"Ma, your flight isn't 'til like, two o'clock," she protested, looking for an excuse to sleep in. Unfortunately for Ann, her _Brooklynite_ mother persisted.

"Look at the time: 6:40. I want to be at the airport at noon. Your father and I want to eat at a nice place for breakfast. It'll take at least two hours to eat, so get…" her voice trailed off in her mind, a string of "_aright, ma_" escaped her tired lips. With her mother badgering, she rolled to her feet, dragging half the bed with her.

"Ma, it is January – too cold for getting up early!" Her barely clothed skin prickled with goose bumps.

"Maybe you should wear something other than short shorts to bed, hmm? Just throw on some sweats and let's go –"

She interrupted her, "Ma, we're not home. It's not okay to wear sweats outside the house, it's really trashy."

"Fine, but hurry up. Skip the shower." Ann gave her mother an exasperated look. "Don't give me that eye, Ann, just hurry up."

With that, the middle-aged woman left the room and Ann shuffled to the window. It seemed as if it was going to be another day of miserable weather. A day during English winter included rain, gloom, and biting wind. She missed the warmth of the United States… and the people. Ann felt hopelessly alone in this strange place. Little did she know that she would soon be even further from anything she held recognizable.

* * *

Breakfast was uneventful: the normal badgering from her mother as well as the normal amused exchanged glances between her and her father. It was almost pleasant until Ann's mother brought up the prospect of moving back to the States. As a pigheaded, stubborn girl who prides herself on 'never looking back', the thought of moving back home in defeat was unbearable.

"But, sweetheart, you could live in the basement for a while until you found a nice job, maybe enrolled in some classes – "

Ann cut her off, "Ma, I am **not** going back. I don't want to go back, I like it here. I'm happy the way I am..." Trailing off, Ann speared at her mushrooms.

"You can't fool your mother, Ann," said her mother with a pointed look, "it's a proven fact. Your father has tried every day for the last thirty years. Just can't do it, I'm too quick."

By that point, Ann's father's eyes were closed, hiding the rolling. Her mother had changed the subject by now – right at the time she was carefully examining the black pudding with her knife.

"Annabel, what is this stuff? It looks disgusting – I didn't order this!" Ann could have died. Her mother had the loudest voice possible and by now, it was attracting many stares from innocent bystanders.

"Ma, it's black pudding. Try it. If you don't like it, don't eat it… but please, stop making such a big deal!"

Ann's mother sighed at the food, "Keith, would you like – "

"No, damn it. Just eat your own food, Terri. Christ's sake."

Obviously, Ann's mother was very sensitive that morning because she became increasingly flustered, "I do _not_ understand why I annoy you two so much. Amanda never gave me so much trouble!"

Ann grew red at the mentioning of her perfect older sister, "Right, at least _she _finished college, got married and popped one out."

"You know what, Ann? I can never win with you. I'm always the wicked mother who's mean. Can we please just stop arguing? You're just like your father." With that said, Ann's father looked up with a questioning expression that silently said, "What?"

And after twenty minutes of sporadic chitchat, the English breakfast from Hell was over, Mother Terri's black pudding still sitting in plate

* * *

After their tearful goodbyes at the airport, Ann's parents were safely on their way back to their beachfront Rhode Island property (purchased after they licensed their highly successful restaurant. They received royalty checks every month that got fatter and fatter now that the restaurant was a bit of a franchise in the Tri-State area); Ann could now return to her life of solitude. However, she owed her lifestyle to them for it was their money that gave her the opportunity to permanently study abroad – their money also helped her _stay_ abroad after dropping out of college.

As she rode the tube back to her neighborhood, Ann contemplated the relationships in her life. If it weren't for her stubbornness, she would have loved to return to the States, take some night classes, find a man… but it seemed as if she would forever be stuck in her '_damn pride_', as her father would put it.

For all of her twenty years, Keith Selador liked to project a tough, careless attitude but in truth, he was a big softy – especially to his Ann. He never left her sight without saying '_I love you_'. Being honest with herself, that's what she missed most about living at home.

The lights in the train flickered, breaking her from homesick thoughts. She felt as if she were alone, even though there was at least a dozen people sharing the space. It was a strange yet complacent feeling that lulled her into a semi-sleep/awake state. She sensed things that didn't exist on the train, that didn't exist _anywhere_. She heard water from a brook and the buzzing insects… smelled fresh grass… felt the warm breeze… and she heard the most beautiful music. A tall willow loomed over the running water, beckoning her to sleep beneath its mighty branches.

"_Come, come closer and dream, _

_Let sleep consume you beneath my beams. _

_Withywindle River shall lull you, _

_And I shall cover you with sweet shadow."_

With warning yet in her heart, Ann complied.


	2. Old Man Willow's Game

**AN: **Thank you so much NekoFlein for the first review! I hate MS's, which is why I started this story. There are so many like "girl wakes up in ME" stories where the main character ends up being a total Sue. If she ever seems Sue-ish, I give you or anyone else permission to destroy my laptop! Please remember, readers (if there are any besides Neko), Review and you shall be rewarded! Free cookies!! Merci Buckets – Alison.

* * *

**Chapter One: Old Man Willow's Game**

It was dark, but not cozy like her bed, and it smelled like rotting leaves and dirt. Unable to see, Ann felt around, hoping to feel nothing but the air of her bedroom. She thought that the incident on the tube was just a strange dream. She quickly realized that she was not dreaming then nor was she dreaming now. She was stuck in a dank earthy prison and when she tried screaming for help, a dry voice sounded.

"_I am Willow, Old Man Willow,_

_Withywindle River is my home._

_You may try, try and fuss,_

_But you are forevermore beneath my dust._

_If you scream a second way_

_I shall pinch you in two – as a corpse you shall lay._

_Not that it would help, using your lungs,_

_For I am the only creature who understands your doomed tongue."_

His voice before was beautiful and lyrical, as gentle as the river. Now it was harsh and biting and it brought fearful tears to her eyes. She did not dare speak again, fearing the terrible creature. She wondered what he meant that no one would understand her cries of help. She also could not help to wonder why _she_ was taken by him, of all the people in the world. As if he sensed her questions, he answered them though, his answers did nothing to soothe her. He was not going to let her go. She would become compost for him to feed upon and that was her fate. He had done it once before to an Englishman some hundred years before.

When Old Man Willow seemed to become preoccupied with a family of squirrels, Ann stretched her hand out and it poked through the earth. She wasn't buried far under and she hoped for a daring escape.

After about an hour, she started muttering to herself in French. Fortunately, Old Man Willow didn't seem to understand, "_D'accord… je peux mourir en essayant d'échapper, où je peux attendre ici et je mourrai de faim. __Oh putain, c'est nul._" She mused that she could either die trying to escape, or she could die of hunger and that the situation, in her words, completely sucked.

Her hand was still outside (or at least she believed it was) as it started to rain. She prayed (in French so the damn tree wouldn't understand) to whatever God or Gods, there was in this world for a long drought or a passerby. She couldn't help but wonder about the time, day and date. Was is still Sunday afternoon, or was time somehow different here? She moved her hand and body so that she could see outside. It was light out, but overcast and raining. She repositioned her hand outside. With the lack of an outstanding plan of escape, she hoped that simply leaving her hand out might hopefully gain the attention of a savior.

A few hours (seemed) to pass by. Every so often, she would check outside to look and try to decipher the time. She had tried looking at her cell-phone but it wouldn't turn on and it was too dark inside the hole to see her watch.

"Wait…" she said to herself, "my iPod!" She felt around for her bag – it was on her lap on the train so it had to be around somewhere… or at least she hoped it was.

Her bag carried mostly nonessential things. An iPod, feminine products, nail file, used tissues, her wallet, hopefully a lighter, (so that if and when she got out of this mess, she would burn the damn tree down) and hopefully she had left some chocolate or gum (she actually just hoped for cigarettes) inside for some caloric (or nicotine) intake that would slow her imminent death. Alas, her bag was nowhere to be found _inside_ the hole. Perhaps she had dropped it on the train or around the tree. She wasn't about to ask him. He would suspect her of trying to trick him and she would be toast.

Minutes began to feel like hours; hours, days. She was not sure how long she had been underground and she was too frightened to ask. It seemed as if the sky was finally turning dark. Night was approaching, and with that thought, Ann's heart sank. She did not know what the darkness would bring. Granted, she was somewhat _safe_ for the moment because she was hidden by her captor.

The tree spoke, without rhyming this time. Ann supposed he was tired of thinking of rhymes in English, "Nasty, queer things during nighttime in the Old Forest, nasty things, indeed. All darkened, full of hate – but not as dark as Old Man Willow, none can beat me. I control all in the Old Forest, with a blackened rotten heart. Only one can control me, Master of wood, water, and hill. But he remains nowhere to be seen, he is with the River-woman's daughter.

"I imagine you wonder why you were chosen. Perhaps you feel better that you were chosen without pattern. I picked you for I could feel your weariness and dismay. I sensed that you would be the easiest to trick – the easiest to beguile beneath my branches. This is my sport, your torment and despair. But yet you have delusions of a savior: I know your hand has been sticking out like a wild root, and I tell you that if I sense it again, I shall tear your limbs as if they were blades of grass."

Ann blanched but regained her nerve. If she was going to die, she was going to do it with dignity intact, "Why wait, you damn, stupid tree? I'm going to die anyway, why drag it on? Just get it over with! I'll keep my hand out whether you like it or not."

And with that, she stuck both hands above the surface, thrashing and screaming as wildly as she could. Maybe the 'Master' of wood, water, and hill would hear her – most likely not. She did not care. She was hungry, had to pee, and had not smoked since her parents arrived at her apartment before Christmas. Surely having those feelings combined for a prolonged period of time was a fate worse than death.

Unfortunately for Ann, those three feelings were nothing compared to what she would be feeling for the next three days. With those words said, the tree began to shift. Great gnarly roots grabbed hold of her feet and pulled her deeper into the earth, squeezing her stomach. Even more unfortunate for Ann was the fact that her bladder, at this time, had been completely full.

Quite a long time had passed since Ann Selador had the need for a diaper. It would be an even longer wait until she would need one again. It was at this precise moment, as the tree squeezed her body as her punishment, that, involuntarily, her bladder emptied and the girl's eyes bulged open in shock.

"Oh, God!" she gasped, "Oh, God!"

She repeated this phrase, not noticing that the tree's grip was no longer there. Now she really wished he would finish and kill her. The tree cackled in wicked delight, sensing her self-disgust and embarrassment. Whether it was a sentient being or a toad, torture was his favorite way to finish off an unlucky creature.

Pleased with his work, he turned his attention to the north-east, wondering if the only Master of the wood would hear the human's calls. After pondering for a good five minutes, his attention went back to the family of squirrels. They found no threat in the ancient tree, a mistake that no other creature in Middle Earth would make again (for the next few months).

* * *

Ann, sure to avenge the ruining of her favorite pair of jeans, wiggled her way back to her original position. To her delight, her fingers found their way through the soil. Suspended underneath the earth, Ann silently planned a bold escape. So deep in thought, Ann had not realized that weariness had seeped into her body. She did not even recall falling asleep.


	3. To Bathe in the Withywindle

**AN****:** Thanks to those who have added this to their alerts. Comments would probably make my muses kick in a little more so… go do that. Merci Buckets! – Alison

**Chapter Two: To Bathe in the Withywindle**

It was cheery outside and Ann Selador found this atrociously inappropriate.

She felt as if she deserved a bit of inclement weather that suggested a funeral procession – anything other than birds and crickets chirping, swaying trees in the soft breeze, and the Withywindle River bubbling away.

It was a beautiful day and she was most likely the most miserable human on this earth, possibly the only human. She wondered if this place was just full of evil talking trees or if she just found the one.

"Yes, yes," the tree began. Ann was tired of it reading her mind, "There are humans as well as hobbits, elves, dwarves, and orcs. The hobbits live in this country. Shirefolk some call them;" his voice darkened, "tree killers, I say. My kin who perished in the Bonfire Glade shall be avenged when darkness once again spreads through Middle Earth. My eyes can see far, they see the shadow rising in the east in Mordor, spreading yet again to the forests of Rhovanion… but with the shadow threatens the rise of orcs," his voice grew even darker and angrier.

"The orcs are worse tree-slayers than the halflings who live in this country. They seldom travel past the Misty Mountains for they hate the West where the Havens lie. There blood is blacker than my withered heart. Their bodies more twisted than the all the roots beneath this earth and they bear faces that reflect the evil that festers within them. I do not think they shall come here, not for a time. There are none who interest in the Shirefolk, for they keep to their enslaved tame gardens and hills. They have no interest beyond this country."

Ann felt confused. From what she learned of this tree is that it does not care of any creature other than itself and the other trees in the forest. It seemed to know more than it originally let on. She carefully posed a question, "How do you know about all this?"

The tree groaned, seemingly surprised at her inquiry. "I am the eldest tree in this wood, all answer to me. I discover through age that wizens my roots and through travelling word from distant strangers. The trees of the Old Forest do my bidding; they sway and speak at my will. The Elves woke us up from deep slumber. We once were one Forest, all connected: Fangorn, Rhovanion, Lórien, Eryn Vorn; we were connected as one from trees west of Ered Luin to the eastern woods of Rhûn. Time, men and other creatures destroyed and separated us. My trees have grown wild as I have, without the Ents to hinder us."

"What are the… Ents?" asked Ann, fascinated by the tale.

"They are the shepherds of the forest. They are the eldest creatures of the world. None beat them in age but the Master. They were taught by the elves, those who first came from the sea, to speak."

"And," Ann started, "since you talk… are you an Ent?"

The tree groaned again, "I do not remember. It is possible that I once was, though it was a long time ago. I am more aware than any other trees in my wood. You are the first human to be curious about Old Man Willow. It is fascinating. Your mind is different than others I have taken under the earth. You speak in a strange tongue, other than your _English_. It is another language of your world. I wish to know about it."

She felt as if it were her chance. Her curiosity had seemingly buttered the tree up, perhaps enough to allow her to escape. It wanted to know about her 'secret' language. Admittedly, she didn't know much; she was far from fluent. She had taken classes when she was younger, studying the language for eight long years. She had no wish to enlighten it of the last piece of her sanity – if it was still intact.

"If you let me out – just for a little while, I'll tell you all about it."

The tree squeezed at Ann, knocking the wind out of her. "For a while, you may return to the surface. It will be your last time, breathing free air."

With that said, Ann's body was flung from under the ground into a tree. She felt a sickening crack as her body made contact with the forest floor. She moaned in pain as her right hand throbbed. The 'damn tree' could not have given her a better landing, though she was happy to be out of the ground. She examined her hand; her ring and pinky finger were both bent and bruised. With her left hand, she clumsily unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off. She washed her jeans as best she could with her single hand. Giving up, she flung the jeans behind her and slipped off her sweater. Her shoes were long gone, lost under the ground. She peeled off the grimy socks and lowered her body into the slowly moving water. She looked behind her. Old Man Willow had no definite face but it seemed to be preoccupied with something that stirred in the opposite direction. Ann grimaced as her hand hit the water. The cold of the river partially numbed the pain.

She examined her body, wondering what she should do as far as bathing went. Not surprisingly, she was caked in a thick sludge. Her dark hair was matted down to her neck and shoulders. With her good hand, she attempted to scrub the dirt. Ann turned back, the tree was watching her.

It was curious as to why most two-legs (with the notable exception of trolls, orcs, and the like) had an obsession with bathing themselves. It also wondered if the human would attempt to run off. It did not believe she would try it, for she knew all too well that it had the other trees under his control. It was utterly shocked when she began to speak.

"I think I broke something…" she paused for a moment, "Why did you bring me here? I can't be here right now," she curled up on the banks of the river. And with that, she began to cry tears that were held up for the past week. She cried of her failures, of the joy of her family that she lost, and of her fear: fear that the last thing she would see was her freedom always remaining just beyond her reach from the depths of her dark prison beneath the earth.

Ann was pulled into a thick haze of humidity and tears. Her face was red and twisted; her mouth compressed together, and her eyebrows deeply furrowed. The air was filled with sounds of insects and birds. She was hypnotized once more by the thickness of the air; her eyes grew heavier with each passing moment. She did not know how long she had slept when she opened her eyes. She looked into the sky with squinted eyes and saw that the sun was rising again from the eastern horizon. Ann decided she would attempt to bathe once more.

She wandered into the river until the water lapped at her waist. With her knees slightly bent, she let the current cleanse her body. She wished that it would take her worries and fears along with the dirt but they lingered, no matter how long she stood in the water. Ann clamped her hand around her nose as she prepared to go under to try and wash her usually warm brown hair. Without soap, she could only hope to get some of the mud and rotten pieces of leaves out –enough so that she could comb through it with her fingers and put it up.

With a sigh, Ann left the river. She had gotten most of the mud off, or at least what she could get off without soap. She spent a good half-hour getting her clothes back on, forgoing the socks and bra. She found them to be more trouble than they were worth. The bag with her things she had hoped to find was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she had left it on the train or it was lost under the ground. It did not matter now. Even if she could escape, why would she? Ann had no idea how to survive in the woods, let alone a magical forest with violent trees.

She sat underneath the tree. It had not said anything about enslaving her for the remainder of her life before she had fallen asleep, nor did it say anything after she had woken up. Ann liked to believe that the tree had grown a soft spot for her and that its heart was not as rotten as it wanted others to think.


	4. The Eldest

**AN:** Hot damn it's been a long time. It's been a year since I've updated so I figured it's about time, right? Hope I haven't lost my readers. Reviews are nice, critiques are necessary so do what you can, I suppose. Remember: I'm writing for you! Merci buckets! – Alison

PS. I don't own LOTR or any of its characters. I use a quote from the book but only because it's really the only line Tom B. uses… I do own Ann and all characters you don't recognize. Though the concept of the birds belong to Tolkien as well.

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Eldest**

"I have held my agreement, human – you shall do the same. Tell me of the foreign tongue you have spoken in your mind." said Old Man Willow, clearly impatient. It was true, she had promised to tell him about French for a bit of freedom, though she had every intention of staying out from under the ground. She would ask him more questions of his victims, though he knew she was simply stalling. He humored the girl's incessant nagging questions.

"I lured many under my branches and they all awoke underneath the earth. Most died quickly for trying to dig their way out, the fools they are. I have been taking them from your world for an age. They have not all spoken this _English_. Some spoke languages close to the one in your mind. Mostly English, however. I take a man, woman, or child from your world every now and again. It is difficult but amusing to witness the confusion and despair. '_A talking tree! 'O the horror!_' None have been as inquisitive as you, mostly screams and agony. That makes you most interesting to me, and far more amusing than the screaming ones."

"So…" she began, unsure if her next words were wise, "you're simply _lonely, _perhaps?"

"Hrrumph, how could one such as I be lonely? When I feel the need to speak, I speak to my brothers and children who surround me."

Ann stretched her back, trying to ignore the want for food, "Do they speak back?"

The branches high above her swayed violently as the tree made a groaning sound, "Hrrupmh. No more questions. You shall tell me what I have asked. The tongue you spoke, I wish to know what it is."As he laid his demands, a bluebird flew too close to the tree. This particular bird was new to the area and did not understand the danger she was in. She found the danger far too late, "Filthy creature, birds."

"I think they're rather beauti-"

Her words were cut off as two branches clapped together, making the bird another victim. "_She thinks they're beautiful? How about now!" _Said the tree bitterly in a language not understood by her. Ann's face paled as soft feathers flew lazily in the air, as if they had never been a part of the unfortunate animal. The branches loosened once again and blood dripped from them. The tree laughed bitterly as the roots began to surround her again. She jumped up too late for his roots had already snaked into her jeans and around her calves.

"Alright, I'll tell you. It's called French. The language, I mean. I studied it when I was in school and I've been to France a few times because I live quite close now. Uh, _Je, tu, il, elle_..." Her words were hurried and they were spoken between gasps of pain. He was crushing her legs, "Please stop! I've told you so you should let me go!"

"That," he said, anger clear in his voice, "was never the deal. You will return to the earth." As he spoke she felt herself returning underground. She was up to her waist in the earth and she cried out, clawing and anything that might slow her descent. She was too weak, however, to hold onto anything. That or whatever she grasped worked against her.

* * *

Ann had not noticed that a large black bird had flown away. The bird flew with an urgency his fellow creatures had not seen in long years.

He made his way to a queer looking home, or at least it would have been to Ann. Outside singing was a fair maiden with golden hair. The raven flew to her and whispered in her ear for this was something only her husband could remedy. Old Man Willow was too powerful for the creatures of the forest; they could not help the trapped human any more than the fair bird who had wandered too close. The raven generally did not make time for those who were trapped by the mad tree, but he had heard the dark-woman's words of his brethren, or rather what Old Man Willow had said. She found them beautiful. It had been a long time indeed that any of the two-legged folk found birds to be so.

Goldberry lazily laid down the water-lilies she was collecting and looked at the raven, "Friend, I knew she was here. I felt her bathe in my waters." The raven squawked angrily, "I shall tell Tom what has happened and he will decide if he will go or not." She smiled and walked rather lackadaisically into her home. After a few minutes, the raven squawked again. Surely the poor bird-sensitive human was underground again.

Another few minutes passed and a round-faced Tom walked out with a large smile on his face. He held his hand on his belly and laughed,

"_Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!_

_Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!_"

The raven squawked and flew to the Eldest and told him his troubles. Tom then laughed and skipped along towards the malicious tree. The raven flew beside him, and told him about the trapped human. Tom seemed to not care about what the raven said, which irritated him to say the least. He squawked again and then flew off, knowing the human had some chance to be safe unless Old Man Willow had already crushed her (which to him seemed a likely result). The raven would fret no more for he had done his part. And thus the raven that _may_ have saved Ann Selador's life flew away from the enchanted wood to tell the tale of the two-legged bird-lover to any of his brethren that would listen.

Ann was once again under the earth. She figured this would happen. It was wishful thinking that the tree had warmed up to her. He had talked about the creatures of this world. She wondered if they were all evil and vile like this one. If so, she didn't care to venture out into the world. He had also talked about a _shadow_ from a place in _Mordor_. That sounded particularly ominous. She never wanted to know what Mordor was about or what the _twisted orcs _looked like. If they were more evil than this insane plant then they must have been spawn of Satan himself. She wondered what would happen when she died in this hole. Besides becoming compost, that is. Was there a heaven? Could she even believe in a God now that she knew this entire world of strange creatures existed? Did trees in her world talk?

The questions that clouded her mind gave her a headache. She was glad, however, that for once the tree didn't answer any of her unsaid questions. It may have been for her questions regarding Earth (_her_ Earth) and religion and the afterlife. For some reason, Ann had stopped worrying about death. There was probably nothing. Or maybe she _was_ dead and her soul was in Hell for dropping out of college – not that she thought it was a sin.

'_Am_ I in Hell?' she thought.

During her musings she had not realized that there was a strange sound coming from above. Tom Bombadil stood directly above her laughing and singing about his name and before she could even smile or cry out, the wicked tree let her free. This time she was not ungraciously flung from the earth, but slowly emerged. As did her elusive bag for which she had earlier searched. She looked up at her savior and saw it was a strange looking man. He was short and fat with a long beard, a large yellow hat, blue coat and matching yellow boots. He laughed and sang even more when he saw Ann.

'I'm in Hell.' She silently decided, 'and this might be Satan.'

She deduced that his name was 'Tom. Tom _Bombadillo. _Or Tom Bom. She honestly had no idea. However strange he was, after walking for some time with him she regretted thinking he was Satan. He seemed too happy to be evil. His laugh was too pleasant and his eyes brightly shone.

'And he likes skipping.' She noted, 'I'm fairly certain Satan would not skip in an enchanted forest.'

"So," said she as they walked, "where are we going?"

He looked at her and gave her a toothy smile. Either he didn't understand her or he didn't care to answer.

* * *

So it's very short. PLEASE critique/review and blahdeblah.


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